


Searching

by Elvarya85



Series: Missing [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Amnesia, Human!Loki, M/M, amnesia au, amnesia!tony, and i might continue it we'll see, artist!loki, it's somewhat angsty though i think it's more squee-worthy than anything, loki is an artist who is completely human, tony is a human who is not rich or famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvarya85/pseuds/Elvarya85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony didn't know who he was or where he came from. All he knew was there was a voice in his head and someone he needed to get back to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Searching

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was inspired by I Miss You by blink-182. It's basically just a oneshot of amnesiac!Tony who can still sort of remember Loki, just in bits and fragments. I'm not sure if I'll continue it, because I really need to finish the other two Frostiron fics I'm currently writing, so I'll leave this as a oneshot and turn it into a series if I ever want to continue it. Hopefully it's not too bad, though!

Tony laid in bed, a cold sweat forming a thin sheen over his skin.

It’d been three weeks since he’d woken up in the alley, and he didn’t think he’d gotten a full night’s sleep since.

He supposed he was lucky that he was found by someone like Bruce. Kind and level-headed, if a bit awkward at times... But still, an honest man who called an ambulance when he found him and got him to a hospital, rather just going through his pockets and leaving him, like someone else obviously had.

A mugging was the best guess anyone had. He was found in an alley in New York City, at night, with alcohol in his system. What else could it be?

The doctor at the hospital had said Tony had amnesia. He said the memories would come back with time. _Might_ come back with time.

But three weeks out, Tony wasn’t looking very hopeful anymore. He only knew his name because of a note he’d found in his pocket.

_Tony-_   
_I’m sorry._   
_-L_

__

Granted, that could be anyone’s name. It could be a note that he’d written to someone else. Bruce had been the first to point those things out, hovering in the room as the doctor saw to Tony. But Tony had quickly cut him off. “No, no, it’s my name. It feels like my name.”

Fast-forward three weeks, and Tony was refusing to see his counselor at the hospital any longer, his head injury had healed enough that he didn’t have to take meds anymore, and he was still living with Bruce, who had graciously offered to let the man stay with him until he recovered at least a bit of his life. How could he do anything else? He didn’t have a wallet or cellphone on him when he was found, the only identifying article was the note, quickly scribbled on what appeared to be the corner of a notebook page. He was wearing a cheap suit and cheaper shoes, and no one matching his description had been reported missing.

Tony either was nobody or had nobody.

He really wasn’t sure which was more depressing.

He couldn’t even get a job. He had no name, no identification, no social security number.

And when he tried to remember anything, there was a big fat nothing.

Well, not quite nothing...

There were a few bits, snippets of memories. Concepts, really. Lips against his, a tongue sliding along his. Cold hands that made him feel warm and safe and _wanted_. He had a feeling that not many people really wanted him around before the amnesia.

He tried not to think about that, though. Because with those memories came a sadness and longing he didn’t quite understand. He could feel a longing there, an emptiness. An absence. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had happened.

But overall, there was a voice with those memories as well. Low and smooth, three words that sent a thrill through him every time he replayed them in his head. _I love you._

__

But evidently, whoever the person was, he’d lost them. That was was evident from the note, the memories, and the general certainty that the person who’d affected him so greatly that not even amnesia could wipe them away...was no longer in the picture.

Tony continued to live with Bruce, devoid of memories or identity. He found that he liked Bruce, even if the guy was a bit sedentary for his tastes. He loved to talk about Bruce’s work, though. The guy was a scientist, worked in a lab down at the university. And though he still didn’t know much of anything about who he was, the memories that _were_ coming back were all scientific facts and concepts. They’d sit and prattle on for hours about particle physics and genetics and what else. And even if Tony didn’t always get the names right - hey, close enough for an amnesiac, right? - Bruce never seemed to mind. He mostly just seemed happy that Tony was improving, if only slightly.

~*~*~*~

The thing about being an amnesiac, you have to experience everything all over again. Tony could remember those lips, that tongue... But he couldn’t actually remember kissing anyone, if he really thought about it. Certain actions seemed familiar, but he couldn’t recall ever having performed them.

It was like staring at an optical illusion. You can see the illusion until you try, and then it’s just lines and colors and whatnot. But relax, pull back and view the bigger picture, you can see it all.

And that definitely wasn’t an easy thing for Tony to do. He talked fast, thought faster, and Bruce had commented several times that it was impossible for anyone to keep up with exactly what Tony was going on about, because no one could see what connections he was making in his head. If everyone else’s minds were going 10 mph, then Tony’s was going 100. 

But back to experiencing everything all over again. Bruce lived in New York - which was surprising to Tony, considering how much the guy said he wanted to avoid stress, but whatever - and if anything could be said about New York, there was always something to do, something to experience. Tony had finally decided to stop being a recluse in Bruce’s spare bedroom and to get out and take a few things in. He visited some museums, taking in different aspects of science and history, though he found those elementary and boring. Nothing of particular merit or interest to him. 

What he was enjoying, however, were the art galleries. He found himself particularly drawn to them, and he couldn’t exactly explain why. He didn’t really think any of it was particularly good. Skilled, yes. Interesting...he supposed. But there was nothing that really spoke to him.

He felt like he was searching for something, though he didn’t know what, exactly.

Just...something.

It was a Saturday when it happened. Saturday night, in particular. He was wandering along the street when someone approached him with a flyer. “Care to attend an art showing? It’s the opening of Loki Laufeyson’s new collection.”

Tony was about to brush the guy off, just like all the rest of the people on the streets with flyers, when the man’s words registered. And...the name.

“What did you say?” he demanded, turning to the guy. He had no doubt that he had something of a crazy look in his eyes, and he had to hand it to the guy for being able to stammer anything out under Tony’s wild gaze.

“That-that’s the artist’s name. Loki Laufeyson. He’s a local guy, just opening his new collection tonight.”

“Where is it?” Tony needed to be there, that was all he knew. “How far?”

“Just around the corner.” The guy seemed uncertain if he should tell Tony at this point, almost concerned about telling someone as clearly-unbalanced as Tony about such an event.

Tony paused. “Is Loki there?”

The guy nodded. “Yeah, he always attends the openings.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks.” Then he took off running. It was further than the guy had made it out to be. Down one block, then to the left another block. And he never stopped running, except that one time he ran into another one of the flyer people, this time a woman. He apologized quickly, helped to right her, then took off again. He could see the gallery, could see the signs with the man’s name on it. Loki Laufeyson. He needed to see, needed to know.

He showed up at the gallery, out of breath, hair thrown in all directions, no doubt looking like hell. He got a few weary looks from staff and attendees alike. He looked around desperately, not even sure who or what he was looking for. He took a few steps in, still unsure, when a voice that was shocked, unknown, and infinitely familiar exclaimed, “Tony?!”

He turned slowly, almost afraid of what he’d find. 

What he found was an impossibly tall man with impossibly dark hair, impossibly fair skin, and impossibly green eyes, staring at him incredulously. He was wearing black pants and a green shirt the precise shade of his eyes, which seemed almost sad. Were those tears in his eyes? Or was it just a reflection from the gallery lights?

Suddenly, Tony was completely unable to speak. Because he recognized the voice, it was the same one in his head. And he was sure that if he felt those hands, those lips, that tongue that had just sneaked out to wet the man’s lips nervously, it’d all be familiar, too. “Loki?” Tony asked cautiously.

Loki nodded. “I thought you’d gone. I tried calling, but-” Loki seemed just as desperate as Tony was. In the back of his mind, he was aware that there were many people around them who were staring, but Tony wasn’t paying attention to them. His eyes were glued to the uncertain green ones that were glued to his own in turn.

Without fulling knowing what he was doing, Tony took three large, quick steps to close the distance between them, winding his hand in Loki’s hair to pull the man down to his level - did he have to be so freaking tall? - and pull the man’s lips to his own.

It was all there. The lips, the tongue, the soft sound the man made against him as he pulled him close, the cool hands against his neck that made him feel so warm and safe and _wanted_.

Because it was Loki. _Of course,_ it was Loki.

“Ah,” he sighed when he finally pulled out of the kiss.

He remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! And as usual, comments are always appreciated, here or on tumblr.
> 
> http://frostirons.tumblr.com/ask


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